Page 66 of Mirrors of the Past

‘It’s — wunnerful!’ Viola had muttered to Laurie, of all people, as they sat beside one another, Marigold between them, in the church.

There had been, of course, a slight change of plan. Marigold had, like her mother, been particularly single-minded that morning, and, instead of walking nicely between Viola and Laurie as they held her hands, she had decided she wanted to walk in front of them and scatter greenery in gay abandon in the aisle.

Somebody had made the mistake of saying that if it was a summer wedding, wouldn’t a scattering of rose petals have been delightful, and, in the absence of rose petals, Marigold had been determined to find an alternative.

This had resulted in all the bridesmaids raiding the Christmas decorations and the garden for things Marigold could put in a basket — therefore, she had acquired the more traditional items of holly and ivy, as well as some cyclamen flowers, some Christmas roses and a fine green shrub from the garden with little white trumpet flowers that was apparently called Christmas Box.

Nobody claimed responsibility for the mention of rose petals.

Unsurprisingly.

But anyway — here they were. Elsie and Louis had just exchanged vows, and Elsie was, quite possibly, the most stunning bride Viola had ever seen. She absolutely glowed with happiness, a wreath of holly, ivy and mistletoe in her hair, and also in her bouquet. She clutched the bouquet very firmly in front of her, the gorgeous white dress even more divine since the extra layers of tulle and lace had been added. The sash, however, was no longer white — Elsie had chosen a red sash to complement Marigold’s dress and it looked utterly perfect. Viola had helped her tie it and adjust it just so before the ceremony. She’d hidden a smile when Elsie had asked her to “loosen it just a little bit, sweetums”, and Elsie had laid her hand briefly on her stomach as if she’d been definitely trying to hide whatever was going on around that area.

The bridesmaids had ribbons of red, gold and green woven through their elaborate hairstyles, but already Viola could feel her style dropping out and the ribbons unravelling. She didn’t care, though. Nobody would be looking at her and if her hair only stayed up as long as it took for the photographs to be taken, that was long enough.

Well, she thought that nobody would be looking at her — but the odd time she had felt Laurie’s eyes on her and once she had turned and caught his expression, and it had made her surreptitiously smile.

She hadn’t forgotten her secret Christmas wish. She wondered if, perhaps, it might not be too much to wish for after all.

But yes, the wedding was “wunnerful”.

She looked around and saw Pearl and Holly clutching each other and crying what she assumed were happy tears while their husbands sat either side of them looking embarrassed, and the children lining the pews beside them. Sam was there too. He caught her eye and grinned, rolling his eyes heavenwards and nodding towards Pearl. She grinned back and looked around a little more.

There were Zennor and Ruan Teague, Laurie’s parents. Ruan Teague had escorted his stepdaughter down the aisle to give her away, looking just as proud as any biological father would. And there were Louis’ parents and his sister-in-law, Felicity. And a couple who she assumed were Laurie’s aunt and uncle, Alys and Jago, the Duke and Duchess of Trecarrow, looking happy to be there as well. The likeness between Alys and the fair-haired Wheal Mount bridesmaids was astonishing, apart from the fact they all had their father’s serious, dark eyes.

There was a movement next to her and she realised it was Marigold, trying to clamber up onto her knee.

‘Isn’t Mama bee-you-tee-fool,’ the little girl whispered. ‘And Papa is bee-you-tee-fool too.’

‘They are both very bee-you-tee-fool, honey. And so are you.’ Viola scooped the child onto her knee and caught Laurie’s eye again. This time, she found that she couldn’t look away. His eyes were fixed on hers, the way she knew hers were fixed on his. The packed church seemed to melt away and it seemed as if it was just the two of them in the world.

‘Yes,’ he whispered. ‘You’re wunnerful.’

But as Marigold had coughed at that point, Viola couldn’t swear that was exactly what Laurie Teague had said.